


One Too Many

by mm8



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Adultery, Blow Jobs, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 07:05:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mm8/pseuds/mm8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be one pint between friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Too Many

_"I'm not gay. I'm not gay. I'm **not** gay,"_ he keeps repeating dully in his mind, like a mantra, although he doesn't have any faith in it anymore. Not now they're stumbling clumsily into the hotel room. Together. 

This wasn't supposed to be happening.

This was just supposed to be a pint between friends. Not that Martin Crieff is his best mate or anything. He met the man over a week ago, even calling him a friend is stretching the definition to its limits. After all, you certainly can't be best mates with someone you just met over a week ago for an acting job that went nowhere and you weren't even getting paid for anyway. You can't be friends with someone who has your name but is your total opposite in every way. You can't be mates with a man with such soft skin and perfect lips… God, his brain is really foggy and not even his own thoughts make much sense. But it doesn't really matter now, does it?

It was also supposed to be just a pint, as in the singular form. Not four or five drinks. He should have known his limit. But the way Martin was looking at him, his blue eyes dark and lustful, hinting about things he hadn't thought about in years. Jesus, he needed another drink to confirm that he wasn't dreaming some sort of secret homosexual fantasy of his. Pint after pint and he'd grow bolder, reaching out to stroke the pilot's cheek, blushing when he'd leant into the touch. And then Martin had reciprocated by squeezing his thigh, dangerously close to the growing bulge in his trousers. A pint later and they were in the Hotel Fitton's books as Captain and Mr. Dougie Richardson without a second thought.

And now his hands are entangled in Martin's curly ginger hair, tugging him forward. Their teeth knock together in a clumsy attempt at kissing; it stings, but he doesn't care. He reaches down and pulls _his_ captain close so their bodies are pressed together. He can feel Martin's straining cock against his thigh and it is _glorious_. 

Finally he gets control of the kiss and turns it softer, he brushes his lips against Martin's; his tongue is tracing the pilot's exquisite mouth. When Martin finally opens for access, the captain lets out a low moan and grabs his waist, slipping his hand beneath his trousers and kneading the supple flesh of his arse. He can't help but grind against Martin. The sound of Martin's low sensual moans begin to tip him over the edge.

"Wait, wait," he interrupts and backs away. His eyes gaze at ginger-haired man before him. The _other_ Martin's face is flushed, lips swollen. He wickedly thinks of how wonderful those lips would look with a cock wrapped around them. "I don't want to stop," he whispers breathlessly, "I just don't want to come in my pants."

 _"I'm not gay. I'm not gay. I'm not--"_ his mind chants as he groans and his eyes shut tight. _"—gay."_

"Martin, Martin, _Martin_ ," his voice cracks as the pilot drops to his knees. 

Below him, Martin has freed his cock, licking the stripe on the underside of his dick. The captain takes his member in his mouth and sucks without holding back. He fists a handful of Martin's lovely ginger hair so he can hold on for the ride. He looks down and watches Martin's cheeks hollow; his thick cock sliding in and out, in and out. The pilot's mouth is stretched as wide as it can go to fit the enormous girth of his shaft. He can't help but grunt as Martin rubs his prick across his face, spreading a glistening line of pre-come along his pretty pale lips. That captain looks so gorgeous, perfect. 

Who would have thought a week ago that this man, the same man who wanted him to guess which runway to land a plane at Nice, would be on his knees greedily sucking _his_ dick?

"I need you," he gasps, pulling Martin up. "I need to be inside you _now_."

Martin nods in agreement. Ridiculously quick, they lose their clothes, groping each other at the prime opportune moments. He turns his back for a second, to pick up the travel size KY jelly and off-brand condom that they bought from the hotel’s one stop shop. When he around all he can do is ogle at the sight of Martin, on his hands and knees on the bed, begging to be taken. Martin arches his back and looks over his shoulder. God, he looks so wanton, so needy, and delicious, displaying all that endless pale skin just for him.

In this moment, he doesn't care about his wife, their disintegrating marriage, or their young children.

All he wants is Martin Crieff, if only for this one night. 

Martin Davenport dives in without abandon.


End file.
